


An Ocean Of Stars

by LiaIsInLove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexia Nervosa, Anorexic Niall, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Bulimia, Bulimic Niall, Burning, But it's about Niall, Cutting, Depressed Niall, Depression, Eating Disorders, Gen, Harry is trying to save Niall, Harry's POV, Harry-centric, Hurt Harry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Illness, Narry brothers, Niall Has An Eating Disorder, Niall-centric, Sad Harry, Scared Harry, Scars, Self Harm Scars, Self Harming Niall, Self-Harm, Suicidal Niall, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Worried Harry, self mutilation, suicide note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiaIsInLove/pseuds/LiaIsInLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Harry felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He was trying so hard to keep Niall from splintering into a million tiny pieces, that he himself was beginning to crack.  He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. All he could think about was Niall and how much he needed him to come back.<br/>Harry was afraid of going to sleep each night because he didn’t know what the next day would bring.  He lay awake every night, sick to his stomach, terrified of what he was going to find in the morning.  Because mornings were bad.  Mornings were the unknown.  Harry didn’t know what state he was going to find Niall in, or if he’d even find Niall alive anymore.</p><p>Or the one where Harry is trying desperately to hold Niall together</p><p>Massive trigger warnings for eating disorders, depression, and mental illness. PLEASE DO NOT READ if this may be triggering in any way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ocean Of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to beg you here: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF IT MIGHT TRIGGER YOU!!! I promise, it's just fiction, you're not missing much. Real life is better. I promise.
> 
> If you do read this, please do not think that I am glamorizing eating disorders or mental illness.
> 
> To those of you who do read this, do not fool yourselves into thinking that the issues I am discussing are at all romantic. Do not think that mental illness is merely a plot-line to be used to romanticize the suffering of characters and add drama to a plot. Because it is not. It is not something that you wish upon anyone, real or fictitious, and it is not something that you desire to have for 'attention.' Do not read this purely for the angst, and then go comfortably off thinking that this was a good story line. This is not beautiful, this is not fantasy, and this is not simply a plot-line.
> 
> Alright, more notes at the end. But seriously. Please do not read if you are not in a safe place.

Harry was sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.  It was the same thing, every night.  He’d wrestled with Niall for over two hours, begging him to eat dinner.  Niall had refused and screamed at him for being a control freak who just wanted to poison him with fat.  Niall, after he’d screamed and sobbed himself hoarse, had finally given in and eaten two pieces of broccoli and one baby carrot.  Harry had then had to physically restrain Niall from regurgitating what little food he had consumed.  After an hour of forcing Niall to sit with him and watch some stupid show on the telly, during which Niall had done everything from sobbing to fighting tooth an nail to escape Harry’s arms, Harry had relented, and Niall had darted off to his room, slamming the door in Harry’s face.  Harry had then sat outside of Niall’s room for almost two hours, pleading with him to unlock the door.  Niall, like always, had refused, and Harry had been forced to listen as Niall first made himself sick and then sobbed himself to sleep. Harry had then retreated downstairs to clean up the mess in the kitchen.  After he’d packed yet another untouched meal into Niall’s crammed fridge, Harry dragged himself back to Niall’s door to listen for the faint sounds of Niall’s shallow breathing.  Harry couldn’t ever actually hear Niall’s breathing, but telling himself that he could was the only thing that got him through the nights, so he kept pretending. He then laboriously traipsed to his room and collapsed face first on the bed, utterly exhausted.

But like every other night, Harry couldn’t sleep. Instead, he lay awake, his mind churning, his heart racing, and his stomach filled with dread at the thought of what state he would find Niall in come morning.  It had been the same pattern every night for almost a month now.

It all started several months back when Niall began acting off.  It wasn’t a big change at first, at least not then.  It was just that Niall had been quieter, often lost in his own thoughts, distancing himself from his brothers.  And maybe his smile didn’t always reach his eyes, and his laugh sometimes sounded fake, but for the most part, he was still their Nialler.  But it had progressed, and Niall grew ever more distant by the day, until the point where his brothers barely recognized him anymore.

However Harry hadn’t realized just how bad it was until he had walked in on Niall changing.  He was beyond horrified to see the myriad of pink and white scars marring Niall’s once pale skin.  Harry nearly fainted when he caught sight of the sickeningly deep gashes gaping open on Niall’s hips. Niall, of course, had freaked out, shouting at Harry to leave him alone and mind his own business, and why the hell wouldn’t he knock first.  But Harry had swallowed down his horror, forcing himself forward despite every fiber of his being screaming for him to run away.  Gingerly, he’d touched Niall’s scars, tracing a timid finger over the broken skin, placing tender kisses upon the scars, each kiss a promise to himself and Niall that he would be there for him, that he would stay by his side, that he would heal him.  His voice didn’t waver as he’d stared Niall straight in the eyes and swore that he would help him, no matter what.  He didn’t know then that there was nothing he could do.  He had been so sure that he could bring the old Niall back.

And Harry tried, he really did. He had tried to get Niall to stop cutting but nothing had worked.  At first he thought that if he watched Niall closely, and checked his body for scars, that would help.  But new cuts kept appearing every time Harry stripped Niall down.  He pleaded with Niall, begged him to stop, tried making deals with him, anything, but Niall kept on hacking away at his skin.  So Harry had then decided to remove all knives, scissors, razors, and other sharp objects from Niall’s house.  But that still didn’t stop him.  After screaming Harry’s head off, Niall had snuck out and simply bought more razors and he’d stashed them away somewhere in his room and Harry couldn’t for the life of him find where.  Whenever Niall left a blade out, Harry would confiscate it and throw it out whilst Niall sobbed and begged him to just leave him alone.  But somehow, Niall never seemed to run out. He always had more blades, and more and more scars covered his frail body every day.

Yet Harry kept trying.  He kept trying save Niall.  Even as Niall got worse and worse, even as he screamed at Harry, or sobbed himself to sleep, Harry kept trying.  He kept trying.  Because somewhere, deep inside him, there was the belief—the desperate hope—that he could find the old Niall somewhere within this terrifying new version of Niall. That he could bring back the Niall who had always loved and lived life to it’s fullest.

But that Niall was gone.  He was gone.  And he was never coming back.  Yet Harry just couldn’t accept that.

Because Niall had always been such a happy kid. He’d always been the one who brightened your day, and made you forget all about your worries and pains. All throughout his childhood and teenage years he was this ray of sunshine, loving life and everybody in it. But now he was just…Harry didn’t know a word strong enough to describe how broken he was now.

Niall used to smile all of the time, he used to laugh at any and everything, he used to sing at the top of his lungs. But now Niall never smiled. Harry couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard the laugh he loved so much.  The only time Niall sang was when he was required to, and even then, his voice sounded hollow, and there was no passion or joy in his words.

Harry missed Niall so much.  It was a deep ache in his chest that throbbed so painfully it felt like someone was stabbing him with a steak knife, trying to carve out his heart. He would give anything to have his brother back.  But Harry didn’t know what more he could do.

He had tried everything he could think of. But nothing worked. Niall continued to grow steadily worse by the day. 

And Harry felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He was trying so hard to keep Niall from splintering into a million tiny pieces, that he himself was beginning to crack.  He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. All he could think about was Niall and how much he needed him to come back.

Harry was afraid of going to sleep each night because he didn’t know what the next day would bring.  He lay awake every night, sick to his stomach, terrified of what he was going to find in the morning.  Because mornings were bad.  Mornings were the unknown.  Harry didn’t know what state he was going to find Niall in, or if he’d even find Niall alive anymore.

Some mornings, after Harry finally broke his way into Niall’s room, he’d see Niall’s mangled body covered in fresh burns and cuts. And no matter how hard Harry searched, he could never find Niall’s blades or lighter.  All Harry could do was tend to Niall’s wounds, assessing the damage Niall had done, gently cleaning the cuts and applying cream to the burns, bandaging them tenderly, assuring Niall that he was beautiful, that he was perfect, that he was going to be okay, that things would get better, that today was going to be different.  He didn’t know if he was saying it for Niall or for himself. And he didn’t know if he even believed it anymore.

Other mornings Harry would find Niall passed out on the bathroom floor.  On those days, Harry just picked up his too-small brother and tucked him into bed, curling up around him as if his arms could keep Niall safe.  Those were the good mornings.  Because Harry was able to sleep for a few hours knowing that Niall was safe in his arms.

But there were some mornings that were bad. Really, really bad. There were some mornings where Harry would find Niall choking as he vomited up blood.  And other mornings where he’d find him hysterically sobbing, utterly inconsolable. Sometimes Harry would find Niall lying despondently on the floor, staring straight ahead, eyes blank, tears trickling steadily down his face.  On those mornings, Niall was incapable of moving or talking, he just lay there, comatose, as Harry picked him up and brought him to bed, wrapped him in his arms, and tried in vain to lull him to sleep.  Other days Niall would slam the door in Harry’s face, all the while screaming about how much he hated him.  There were many days where Harry spent hours trying to scrub Niall’s blood from the floor.  And some days where Harry would screw up his face in agony as Niall sobbed, begging Harry to just let him die, to just let him kill himself.

But the worst by far was when Harry had found a half finished suicide note next to Niall’s unconscious body. Harry had never been so scared in his life and he’d never been as relieved as he was when he’d realized that Niall was sleeping, having passed out before he could finish his note or his plan. Harry had held Niall’s frail body to him as he cried and cried until his tears ran dry and he could cry no more.

And Niall was just so frail, so tiny, so breakable…so broken.

Harry had known Niall was losing weight. He had known that he was frighteningly thin.  But never in his wildest dreams could Harry have ever imagined that Niall would be this bad. He was emaciated. He was skeletal. His spine protruded from his back, rising and falling like a chain of jagged mountains, each sharp peak linked by a deep valley. His collarbones jutted out from his shoulders like swords, razor sharp, piercing through Niall’s paper-like skin.  His chest was so terrifyingly frail that the harsh bump of every rib could be seen even through the worn sweatshirts Niall drowned himself in. Hollowed out and curving inward, forming a sickeningly enormous canyon, Niall’s stomach was painful to look at, what with the way it caved in on itself.  Niall’s hipbones were like daggers.  Elbows, far too big for the skeletal arms to which they were attached, stuck out, swollen and purple.  His hands were those of an old woman, skinny and bony, purpling from the lack of blood flow. Legs as thin as twigs trembled with the effort of standing.  But what pained Harry the most was the gap.  The space between Niall’s thin thighs, so vast an ocean of stars could float there. So vast his knees didn’t brush against each other when he walked.  So vast that they created a wind tunnel effect each time the breeze swelled, a low whistle filling the air as the wind rushed through the gap.

His gaunt face was made up of rough lines and harsh angles.  No longer the soft rounded youthful face of the innocent child he had once been. Pale, bruised skin was stretched taught across the outline of his skull.  His cheekbones looked as though they had been dug out with spades. And his eyes…

Harry couldn’t even look into the deadened eyes shrouded in dark bags.  He couldn’t stand to see the way they were sunken in, too big for his face, cloaked by deep shadows. He couldn’t stand to see the way the life had simply left them.

He looked as though he would snap in half if Harry dared to touch him.  He looked as though even the faintest gust of wind would sweep him clean off his feet. He looked as though he was dying. He was dying. And there was nothing Harry could do to stop it.  And that killed him inside.

It’s just that Harry was trying so fucking hard. And every day it was the same thing over and over again.  And Harry didn’t know how much more of this he could take before either he fell apart or Niall finally succeeded in killing himself.

He just wanted Niall to be happy again. He just wanted Niall to be safe. He just wanted his Nialler back. He just wanted his Nialler back. He just wanted his Nialler back.

Harry sobbed into his pillow. It hurt so fucking badly. He loved Niall so much, and to know that Niall was hurting himself, that he wanted to die, that he probably was going to die…It felt like his heart was being ripped in two. He was sick with worry. There was nothing he could do but pray. Pray that he could hold together Niall’s seams and keep him from fracturing into a million jagged pieces. Pray that he had one more day with him.  Pray that maybe today would be the day that he could save him.  Pray that Niall would still be alive when Harry went to check on him in the morning. 

After yet another sleepless night, Harry pried himself out of bed and crept back down the hall, utterly terrified of what was awaiting him.  “Niall…?” he asked.

**Author's Note:**

> Mental illness doesn't just affect the person who has it. It affects everyone. This is my homage to the friends and family of those suffering with mental illness who are trying their best to support and remain strong for their loved ones. 
> 
> THERE IS NO SHAME IN ASKING FOR HELP. If you or someone you know is suffering -- and I mean suffering -- and struggling, I am begging you to please seek the help that you deserve. I promise, you are worth it and you deserve it.
> 
> International Eating Disorder Resources:  
> http://www.eatingdisorderhope.com/treatment-for-eating-disorders/international
> 
> U.S. Eating Disorder Resources:  
> http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/resource-links  
> http://www.anad.org/eating-disorders-get-help/eating-disorders-support-groups/
> 
> Online Eating Disorder Resources:  
> http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/online-eating-disorder-screening  
> http://www.b-eat.co.uk/get-help/about-eating-disorders/information-sheets/
> 
> Suicide & Other Support Hotlines:  
> World-wide - http://still-learning-2love-myself.tumblr.com/post/122914996788/suicide-hotlines-worldwide  
> USA - http://still-learning-2love-myself.tumblr.com/post/122915395263/suicide-hotlines-usa  
> UK - http://still-learning-2love-myself.tumblr.com/post/122915280248/suicide-hotlines-uk
> 
>  
> 
> Please remember to be kind to yourself, patient and compassionate with others, smile, laugh, spend time with people who make you happy, and above all else, remember that "kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see."
> 
> Do not give up. Do not lose faith. Stay strong. Each and every one of you are worth it. To the world, you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.
> 
> I know it may not always feel like it, but I promise that you are important, and you are loved, and you deserve to be happy, and you are worth it. If you ever need to be reminded of this or you someone to talk to, or encourage you, or believe in you, or if you just need a friend, I am always here for you. So please don't ever think that you are alone, because you are not. I promise. You can find me on tumblr at lia-is-in-love.tumblr.com
> 
> I love you all so much and I hope that each and every one of you find the happiness and peace in life that you deserve.
> 
> Lots of love,  
> -Lia

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Scars Of Broken Promises](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933572) by [LiaIsInLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiaIsInLove/pseuds/LiaIsInLove)




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